


Dreams Through Stone Walls

by astrospecial



Series: how sweet and dear the morning can be [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Under-negotiated Kink, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/pseuds/astrospecial
Summary: Dimitri wants to try something new in their relationship: letting Claude drink from him while they have sex.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: how sweet and dear the morning can be [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676191
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Dreams Through Stone Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Firm as Steel", my first vamp!Claude/Dimitri fic. You don't have to read that one to understand this one :)

Dimitri drummed his fingers along a Golden Deer class desk, trying to work up the courage to draw Claude from his concentration. It was a wonder to watch Claude work at anything; whether it was the simple act of wiping the chalkboard, as he was doing now, or waxing his bowstring. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke: “Claude,” he started, then paused until Claude had dropped the cleaning rag near the chalkboard, “may I talk with you?” 

Claude turned to him and nodded. Of course, he could lie and say it was nothing, or change course and ask him how he was doing in his studies. Any other person and that would have been fine, but this was Claude and he would poke and prod until he learned  _ exactly  _ what Dimitri had wanted. There was nothing left to do but spit it out. 

“I was thinking we should do something new when you drink from me tonight.”

Claude’s eyes widened, and he glanced around the empty classroom like someone had materialized there in the few seconds it took for Dimitri to speak. Like always, even after seeing no one, he lowered his voice and leaned in like a co-conspirator. Dimitri often wondered if it was a ploy to get him to quiet his voice too. 

“Lay it on me.”

“Why don’t we…” Dimitri struggled to find the words, even though he had been rehearsing them in his head for the past half-hour. Just the thought of his request was enough to turn him into a sputtering mess, but Claude would have had no trouble with it— he could voice the profanest desires without a stumble. He cleared his throat and began again. “You know. Why don’t we have sex while you drink from me?”

There was a moment’s pause as Claude absorbed the words. After, the transformation was almost instantaneous. His mouth parted, revealing the sharp and long canines; the brilliant turquoise of his eyes took on a red hue, like blood staining the ocean; and before Dimitri hid his head in his fingers he could see how his tongue licked his red, red, lips. Anytime blood was mentioned, Dimitri was newly surprised by the change— it was far too easy to forget he was intimate with a vampire.

_ Intimate.  _ What other word could describe their relationship?  _ Lovers  _ made it sound immoral, something that lived in the shadows and couldn’t touch the light.  _ Dating  _ was too informal, unbefitting of their station, and they had long past the acceptable etiquette and era for courtship. 

Claude’s voice, choked and rough, drew him out of his musings. “You don’t know what you just did to me,” he said. 

“I have an idea,” he mumbled into his hands. 

“No,” Claude said. “You don’t.” 

Dimitri didn’t have the chance to blink before his hand was in Claude’s and they were out the door, up the dormitory stairwell, and safely in Claude’s room. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, if Claude had tapped into some of that vampiric power or if the excitement had made the minutes blur. The consequences of running hand-in-hand didn’t matter to Claude when he was like  _ this,  _ as if everyone but Dimitri was an enemy who could either get out of the damn way or get run through. Demonic, Claude had called it, and Dimitri understood that it should have been terrifying to have such energy directed at him, but amidst that fear was an arousal Dimitri hadn’t any idea what to do with. He wasn’t sure if that was built-up admiration and desire or if it meant something new was wrong with him. 

Claude locked the door of his room and leaned against it, his chest heaving with every shallow breath. It wasn’t exertion, and that knowledge made Dimitri step from Claude in embarrassment. 

His swallow bobbed in his throat. “How do you want to do it?” 

Dimitri’s cheeks burned. After his morning training and bath, he had sat at his desk to do some reading. Yet he couldn’t keep his mind away from Claude, and the book soon laid face-down on the floor as he stretched himself with his fingers. His fantasies had been normal for him until his imaginary Claude began fucking him. Right before the pleasure became too much, he felt the phantom pain of fangs entering his neck, and saw in his mind’s eye the curve Claude would make bending to bite him. The image had been so intoxicating that he had rushed to the Golden Deer classroom when he knew Claude would be there cleaning. He shifted a little, stomach tingling a little with the memory. Claude’s eyes snapped to the movement.

When Claude stepped forward, Dimitri willed his knees not to give out. He stopped trying after Claude placed his hands on Dimitri’s waist and tugged him forward with a bruisingly strong grip. Dimitri’s arms wrapped around Claude’s neck on their own accord, and he could not control the full-body shiver when Claude’s hot breath touched his ear. “Let me know, Dima. Did you fuck yourself today?”

In shock, Dimitri leaned away. “Claude—“ 

Claude’s fingers clenched around his waist. “Answer me.”

Forcing out the words was as painful cutting out an arrowhead. It was fine imagining, but as soon as Claude was in front of him and desiring him, it became too much to bear. He stared at Claude’s chest, which held the faintest of heartbeats. Dimitri sometimes laid awake, palms pressed to their chests, and compared their pulses. “Yes,” he said. “With my fingers.”

“Good.” A pause. Dimitri imagined the smile. “I could smell oil on you. How many?”

Of course, Claude only asked questions he knew the answer to.

“Three.”

“You’re all ready for me, huh?” Claude released him and stepped back. His eyes raked over him, up and down his legs and arms, lingering on his wrists, before settling on his neck. Cold etched up Dimitri’s spine. Claude could kill him right now, drink him dry, and he’d be powerless to stop him. He wished he could say that the sole reason he trembled was fear.

“Get undressed.” 

Dimitri removed his uniform, too nervous to be careful. Buttons flew off his pants and met the ones from his shirt. No matter how many times they went through this, it happened too fast, but he couldn’t ask Claude to wait, to pause, because then where would they be? He couldn’t meet Claude’s gaze, but he didn’t want to look at himself or the smooth scars stamped into his body. He closed his eyes and waited.

“Hey. Dimitri.” A hand on his chin, pushing his head up. “You alright?” There was turquoise in his eyes, a flush in his cheeks. 

“Yes,” he said.

Claude kissed him and Dimitri let himself succumb to the kiss, let himself be pushed back onto the bed, let Claude run his fingers down his body. He shook and resisted the urge to duck underneath the blankets. How many times would he have to go through this before he could look at his own body without wanting to tear the skin off? How many times before Dimitri could learn to see, and remember, and—

“You’re thinking too much, Dima. Means I’m not doing my job.”

“My apologies.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Claude nipped his thigh— not hard enough to draw blood— and sucked a bruise there. He kissed up his thigh, stopped tantalizingly close to Dimitri’s dick, and he fought the urge to push Claude’s head down. Instead, he fumbled with unbuttoning Claude’s pants without losing contact with him. He had managed the first one when Claude pushed him back down on the bed, more gently than Dimitri thought he was capable at the moment, and stared at his face. Searching for something. Then, without looking away, he smooshed Dimitri’s cheeks together. 

“What are you doing?” Dimitri’s voice was muffled both by his surprised laugh and by Claude’s absurd action. Here he was, a prince and a son of a duke. What would his parents say— ah.

Claude squinted theatrically. Then with a sigh, his back hit the bed. “Look, Dimitri. Are you sure you want to do this right now?”

“What?”   
  


“You’ve been distracted this whole time. If something’s bothering you, I want you to be able to tell me.” Here Claude looked to the wall. “It’s the least I can do.” 

Did he owe it to Claude to let him know? He hardly knew, either. He forced his thoughts to order. “It’s just— well, whenever I’m with you…” It wasn’t the truth, but it was something like it. “...I feel self-conscious.” 

Claude sat up. “Really? This whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Dima—”

Dimitri may have owed it to Claude, but now Claude would never look at him the same again. Right, the pitying look he was used to had already taken root on Claude’s face. He should have kept his mouth shut, had torn the faraway looks from his face and done a better job of unbuttoning Claude’s pants. 

“Please don’t worry about it,” he said. “You’re hungry, right? And I know your self-control isn’t strong. Can’t we continue?”

Claude bit his lip. “Are you absolutely, one-hundred percent positive?”

“Would I have— would I have prepared myself earlier if I wasn’t?”

Claude opened his mouth to say something, likely a rebuttal Dimitri wouldn’t have a comeback for, so Dimitri chose their path for him. He pressed Claude back down and unbuttoned his pants. All the way this time. 

Claude hadn’t gone all soft, thankfully, even though Dimitri was hardly aroused anymore. This was destined to be a terrible idea from the very beginning, he supposed. Dimitri grabbed the oil from the bedside table, and after warming it with his hands, took Claude’s cock out and stroked him, viciously slow and gentle. His skin was hot under his palm, and at each of Claude’s little groans when Dimitri tightened his grip, the lost arousal flared in Dimitri’s stomach. Claude was beautiful like this, although he was handsome all the time, and it made everything a little easier when he could focus on how Claude’s eyes clenched shut and his eyebrows surged down when he twisted his wrist.

“Come on,” Claude said finally, “how long are you planning on torturing me like this?”

Dimitri met his eyes and said what felt right.

“Forever.”

His head hit the pillows and Claude’s hands were pinned on his shoulders. That monstrous quality— the piercing eyes, swollen lips, sharp teeth— had overtaken his face, and when only after Claude lowered his head to Dimitri’s shoulder, shaking, did Dimitri realize how desperately Claude had been fighting against the urge to devour him whole. At moments like these, Dimitri was torn between wishing he had enough blood to feed him thrice a day and starving him.

“Go on, Claude,” Dimitri said, smoothing his hand over his hair. He liked this. He liked being in control, of knowing that Claude would ultimately do what he said. Claude spread his legs and sank into him, and Dimitri pressed his hand over his mouth to stifle a groan. He liked feeling Claude shuddering, liked feeling the sweat gather on his own brow, and in the depth of his mind he liked that when Claude was on top of him,  _ this  _ was the only thing he thought about. Nothing more than the next thrust in, the next thrust out, tearing sounds from him he didn’t think possible. 

When he was near his limit, he moaned out a broken, “Bite me, Claude, please,” and the next second there was cold pain in his neck, warm blood trickling down his skin. The smell of it overpowered everything else, and all he could think about as Claude relentlessly slammed into him was blood. 

He came with a gasp, but Claude didn’t slow his pace. Again and again, Claude drove into him, all while lapping at the wound on his neck. Dimitri writhed underneath him, chest warm with Claude’s body heat and the excess blood trickling down his neck. His breath came to him in broken sobs, and in the midst of it, he tore an angry scratch down Claude’s back. Still, even though his lungs screamed for air and his tears mingled with the blood on his chest, his effort at escape was a halfhearted one. If Claude wanted to have all of him, then Dimitri wouldn’t stop him.

Then Claude stilled. Heat flooded inside him and Dimitri threw a hand over his eyes, panting and burning from exertion and shame.

By the time Dimitri lowered his arm, the mess on his chest was gone, the wound on his neck was bandaged, and the blankets were draped warmly over their bodies.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Sleep weighed so heavily on Dimitri that he barely heard it when Claude did speak.

“Dimitri.” 

Dimitri opened his eyes, and he dared not show the fear that he felt at Claude’s expression. It was human and exhausted, his lips twisted in a frown too old for his features.  _ Goddess,  _ thought Dimitri,  _ here it comes.  _

“If you ever want to stop this,” Claude said, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Promise you’ll tell me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” 

It was not a matter of Claude hurting him— nothing Claude could do could hurt him, short of losing him. Dimitri could not say that, so he kissed him. Blood. He realized he had never asked Clade what it tasted like to a vampire. Was it as revolting to Claude as it was to him?

“Don’t think you can placate me with a kiss!”

“I promise,” Dimitri said, words falling out easily. “Now, I hate to bring this up...but it  _ is  _ almost dinner time.”

Claude stared at him, before chuckling wearily. He was sleepy, like how Dimitri got when he ate too much at a banquet. “Your wish is my command, Your Princliness. Just let me get dressed first.”

Claude left with the promise that Dimitri’s dinner would be up to him as fast as he could run. Alone, there was nothing to do but think. He buried his head in Claude’s pillow and resolved to fall asleep as fast as he could, yet the smell and taste and feel of blood followed him into his dreams. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not entirely happy with this one but I figured, eh, whatever. Times are weird. I hope it brought you some joy. 
> 
> Title is from the short story 'Carmilla.' The series title is yet another quote from Stoker's Dracula :)
> 
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